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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25997971">Thy will be done, the cup will be won</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_Michelle/pseuds/Charlie_Michelle'>Charlie_Michelle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sports, Bellarke, F/M, Family Feels, Friendship, M/M, Multi, National Hockey League, Sorry Not Sorry, chosen family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:14:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25997971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_Michelle/pseuds/Charlie_Michelle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She is forty-one weeks and two days pregnant on the day that the Philadelphia Flyers play the Colorado Avalanche in game seven of the final round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs. This year was especially dear to her as she (im)patiently awaited the arrival of her daughter! Despite the fact that she was a week over her due date Clarke was not deterred from fulfilling her playoff rituals. She didn’t want to chance jinxing the vibes that the day were providing her, something glorious and grand was about to happen. </p><p>She could feel it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Thy will be done, the cup will be won</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wish I could say I'm sorry but I'm not... </p><p>Also, I really want the Flyers to win a Stanley Cup in my lifetime. </p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own The 100!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She is forty-one weeks and two days pregnant on the day that the Philadelphia Flyers play the Colorado Avalanche in game seven of the final round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Clarke Griffin is an avid hockey fan; her father (Jake Griffin) used to take her to as many home games as possible when she was a child and had even tried to get her on the ice herself! Although, much to his dismay and her mothers’ (Abby Griffin) amusement the spitfire blonde was not cut out for athletic life. That statement was still true into her adulthood, not that Clarke minded her inability to catch a ball or run long distances without practically dying. She preferred the vibe of the sidelines where she could cheer as loud as she wanted and could feed off the energy around her. Ice hockey though had always held a special place in her heart.</p><p> </p><p>This year was especially dear to her as she (im)patiently awaited the arrival of her daughter! Despite the fact that she was a week over her due date Clarke was not deterred from fulfilling her playoff rituals. It started when she was young, her father would hang all of his favorite past players jerseys along the wall that the television rested against and of course he would wear his current favorite players number the day of. Then he would strategically place his other memorabilia around the family room and to finish it off he’d light his lucky candle. It always warmed Clarke’s young heart to smell warm cinnamon and pumpkin in the early June days. She supposed these little things were so important to her as an adult because the rituals were only completed as the Flyers made their way up into the playoffs.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, after growing up in Philadelphia Clarke was very disciplined when it came to patience with her sports teams. The day the Eagles won Super Bowl LII had been just like any other; she woke up, got ahead on some school work and then proceeded to watch the game in her cramped South Philadelphia apartment with her closest friends. The euphoric feeling that settled in the streets after the win would be something Clarke would never forget -in the end it was harder to forget the men climbing light poles and Jason Kelce showing up to the parade in a Mummers suit. Another Philadelphia tradition that her father had instilled within her. It had been a life goal to share that same feeling with her city for the Stanley Cup and it truly felt like it was about to happen! She didn’t want to chance jinxing the vibes that the day were providing her, something glorious and grand was about to happen.</p><p> </p><p>She could <em>feel</em> it.</p><hr/><p>The morning had started just like normal, well as normal as it could be for someone in her particular state of pregnancy. She woke up sprawled out diagonal across the bed in an extra large beat up tee shirt, which was not how she remembered falling asleep as she preferred to sleep nude that late into her pregnancy. She lingered in bed for a while longer than normal to ease the ache in her lower back but the thought of staying in bed alone made her emotional these days and she knew she’d have to get up sooner or later. She felt her daughter kick at her organs as she adjusted herself to stand and stretch. Clarke looked forward to many things postpartum, obviously the joy and love she’d bestow her daughter and her relatively fit figure, but she really couldn’t wait to be able to walk down her hallway without looking like a penguin.</p><p> </p><p>She hummed to herself as she mosied around the house in the late morning. She had to let Bernie her yorkie out to do his business before she put on his lucky bandana for the day. While he wandered the yard aimlessly Clarke began to assemble the shrine. Her fathers’ Bobby Clarke jersey hung on the stray nail to the right of the television and her Barry Ashbee jersey to the nail on the opposite side. She then assembled her 2010 season lineup bobble head collection along the entertainment center. Claude Giroux and Danny Briere took up the left corner while Jeff Carter and Mike Richards on the opposite end (one shelf down for symmetrical purposes) and finally she had Scott Hartnell, Chris Pronger and Kimmo Timonen right in the center on the lowest shelf of the entertainment center. They had been sitting there since her second trimester as she feared she wouldn’t have been physically able to set them up properly the further she got into her pregnancy. As it appeared, she was right after all!</p><p> </p><p>She continued to add little touches throughout the living room. Her winter pompom hat on the top right corner of the television; a testament to her youth when everything was a drinking game and whenever a player lined up perfectly to wear the hat was worth a shot. She replaced three stuffed Gritty’s -she hoped the baby wouldn’t find them scary, from the nursery to sit them along the back of  the wrap around couch. She swapped out her plain black throw pillows for the cheap miniature Flyer’s throw pillows so that they rest one in each corner. Her sleek glass coffee table had a thick wool scarf placed over it like a runner with a pumpkin spice candle directly in the center of the table. Tradition said she couldn’t light the candle until the Flyers pre-game show started.</p><p> </p><p>She took out her old rally towels from playoffs past and placed them in the blank spaces of the sleek entertainment center. She folded her Michael Leighton tee shirt over the back of the arm chair on the opposing side of the wrap around sofa. She put her old torn and weathered St. Patrick’s themed Flyers hat over the lampshade of the tall standing light she had in the corner behind the large recliner -another testament to her youthful seasons. The final piece to the puzzle was her lucky puck. It had been a home game on her thirteenth birthday and her dad took her to watch the practice before the game. He had let her wear his Ron Hextall jersey which was way too big on her. It was the only game her mother had attended with the two of them and while most days Clarke hated the privilege that came with being Dr. Abigail Griffins’ daughter, she marveled at it when her hockey idol had taken the time to shake her hand, pose for a picture and sign one of the practice pucks that had been lying around.</p><p> </p><p>She kept it in a case so that the pristine silver signature of Simone Gagne didn’t get rubbed off in the wear and tear of everyday life. Delicately, as if she was handling a priceless family heirloom, she placed the encased hockey puck directly in the center of the entertainment center so that the signature faced the sofa. Bernie barked from the deck as indication that he was ready to be let in and so Clarke waddled through the kitchen and into the back room (<em>her studio</em>, thank you very much) and slid the door open so that her small canine companion could squeeze his body in. He yipped excitedly and ran ahead of her towards the hanging basket where his treats, leash and harness rested. She had to get his bandana on him for the game, but the thought of trying to do so exhausted her, so she would wait until her friends arrived and guilt one of them into tying it on. She rubbed at her belly hoping to soothe her daughter who had continued to kick her way around the womb as she made her way back down the hallway and into the shower.</p><hr/><p>By the time Clarke had washed her hair and changed into her leggings and current jersey, the last name Blake spread between her shoulders and the bold number 26 just below it, she was aching from her hips all the way to her toes. She had thrown her hair into a messy braid from the center of her head down and huffed in annoyance as a few stray pieces escaped their placement. Clarke had hoped to be able to sneak in a pre-game nap, but her hopes had been squashed when she heard her front door open and the sound of her best friends’ voices carrying through the rancher. “Honey we’re home!”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke smiled over at her friends as they walked from the entryway into the living room. “Love what you’ve done with the place Griffin, tell me is it hard to match the googly eyes of Gritty to the rest of your furniture?”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke snarks right back; “I’ll have you know, Reyes, that Gritty makes a wonderful addition to any home decor.” and the girls go in for a hug. And then there’s the masculine voice of her childhood best friend coming in from behind asking for help as he was left to carry two trays of food. “I’ll be right there Wells.”</p><p> </p><p>Raven looks taken aback, “Absolutely not, you’re literally about to pop! Go sit down, I'll help Wells.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re just saying that so you can make out with him in my brand new kitchen.” Clarke jokes cheekily at the blush that works its way up Ravens’ neck.</p><p> </p><p>Raven snorts then kisses Clarke on the cheek and ushers to the recliner. “You know me so well! Now sit!”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke and Raven couldn’t be more different if they had tried. Where Clarke had grown up in Mount Airy, Philadelphia with her engineer father and lead surgeon mother, Raven had grown up in the Rhawnhurst section of the Northeast Philadelphia region. Clarke grew up in a house that had three floors and six bedrooms, three bathrooms, a living room, a sitting room and a sunroom -and the library which had become her fathers’ study, and a butler’s nook. Raven shared her bedroom with three other kids from the area in her grandmother's cramped duplex style housing. Clarke had grown up privileged and spoiled, she had attended Arkadia Preparatory Academy from the time she was five until high school graduation. Raven attended public school and took two different Septa bus routes to get to her high school. Clarke had grown up with people like Wells Jaha (son of the Rhode Island Senator Thelonius Jaha) who lived at Arkadia while in school and Raven grew up with people like Finn Collins.</p><p> </p><p>For all of his crimes against the two women it is entirely his own mistakes that led them to becoming friends. Clarke had become somewhat of a disappointment to her mother when she had abandoned the lifelong dream of becoming a doctor and studying at Villanova or Jefferson or NYU and instead sought out an education at Temple University in the place that Clarke has always called home. She didn’t want to become a doctor, she wanted to become an artist, she wanted to be able to touch someone's life with her creations, not because they were in dire need of a heart transplant. Clarke met Finn in her freshman public speaking course and it had seemed like the two hit it off right away. It had been the first time someone had paid Clarke any attention, she had been fully convinced that he was it for her. Then one cool night just before winter break Clarke found herself cuddled under his blankets in his cramped dorm room with someone pounding on the door. Dazed and confused Clarke stumbled to the door and opened it to reveal quite possibly one of the prettiest Hispanic girls she could remember ever meeting.</p><p> </p><p>From there it didn’t take long for the two of them to figure out what had been going on. By time Finn had finished his evening class the two girls had formed a pact, a bond and nearly ten years later that bond remained. Not to say they hadn’t gone through rough patches! They almost lost their friendship during Clarke’s junior year at Temple when she had started to date Philadelphia Art Institutes pride and joy Lexa Trikru. Lexa had taught Clarke how to strive for perfection, how to throw herself into her pieces and her works and taught Clarke how to rely on alcohol and experimental drugs to pull inspiration. Raven hadn’t liked Lexa from the start, said that she was a bad influence and was just using Clarke to get some kind of thrill. “Isn’t that the beauty of it though? I mean Lexa thinks of <em>me</em> as a <em>muse</em>… that’s beautiful Raven.”</p><p> </p><p>To which Raven had hotly responded with, “No Clarke, what she’s doing is considered abuse and you’re just sitting here stoned letting her treat you like you’re some kind of toy! If your goal was to become a deadbeat like your mother worried you’d become, I’d have to say ``job well done.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well good thing my mother found such an easy replacement in you!”</p><p> </p><p>Raven gasped; “Get over yourself Clarke! Not everything in this world revolves around you.”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke felt her eyes well up as the fight left her system, “I’m going to Lexa’s, I don’t need this from you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah Clarke,” Raven pushed forward, “run away like you always do.”</p><p> </p><p>At the time Raven didn’t know that Clarke really would run away with Lexa. She didn’t know that her pigheaded, brutally self-sacrificing and drop dead gorgeous best friend would end up alone in New York City just two weeks later, after Lexa ran off with the love of her life Anya and Raven didn’t know that Clarke tried reaching out multiple times; because she was alone, she had no money, she only memorized Raven’s phone number and no one else’s. Until Wells had bumped into Clarke by pure chance near the newly opened 9/11 Memorial and had taken one look at her and knew something was really wrong.  Afterward Wells Jaha sent Raven a message on Facebook that read something along the lines of her being a conceited bitch. It must have been love at first instant message.</p><p> </p><p>Granted, Clarke hadn’t been left to the streets. She had only been wandering the city for a few hours trying to figure out the best means of getting home -without having to call her judgemental and homophobic mother. It was a happy reunion between lifelong friends! Wells had taken up studying English at NYU and was on his way to publishing his first fictional novel, while Clarke had admitted she had no idea what she was doing, but that art was just too important to walk away from. He had purchased them tickets back into Philadelphia and rode with his friend all the way back to her South Philadelphia apartment that was shared with the elusive Raven Reyes.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, you could teach art.”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke snorted; “Yeah, right, like you could see me in a classroom in front of a bunch of little kids teaching them how to stay within the lines.”</p><p> </p><p>Wells chuckled softly and agreed that the image didn’t quite fit, “How about high school? Or even middle school? You know it was my english teacher Mrs. Grunnar that pretty much saved my life right? She’s the whole reason I’m where I’m at currently. Maybe you could be someones’ Mrs. Grunnar.”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke pondered it for a moment while she looked out the window and took in the familiar Philadelphian sights around her. “Yeah,” she hummed out as she turned to face him, “I think I could see that.”</p><p> </p><p>After the rough introductions between Raven and Wells -both of which had gotten into a chest puffing competition to prove who was closest with Clarke, it was easier. The last two years of school made a lot more sense to Clarke. Raven had finished her Masters through Drexel University and had taken a position within Jake Griffins’ firm somewhere up in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania and Wells continued to work on a Masters in education at NYU while balancing an on and off relationship with Raven, once Wells figured out that the headstrong engineer was exactly who he wanted in life he took the opportunity to teach at Lasalle University in the Philadelphia region. Clarke graduated with honors from Temple and eventually got started in a school district outside of the city in one of the surrounding suburban neighborhoods.</p><hr/><p>Eventually the trays of food that Wells and Raven had brought are laid out in an aesthetically pleasing way and the two of them are snuggled up together on the sofa while they watch the history of the Stanley Cup while talking aimlessly with Clarke. Her phone goes off with the familiar ringtone she has saved for her coworker and friend Monty Green and Wells offers to let them in so that Clarke can stay seated. She has a sheen coat of sweat along her forehead and had Raven turn the air on just a few minutes prior. In comes Monty Green (the ninth grade biology and honors environmental studies teacher) with his wife Harper and their three year old son Jordan. The childs’ eyes still bulge whenever he sees Clarke’s stomach and she assumes it’s because she’s the first pregnant person he’s met, but she doesn’t know that his Uncle Jasper had told him that aliens invaded Aunt Clarke’s tummy.</p><p> </p><p>A few minutes later Jasper Jordan himself is letting himself into the already full and warm home; “I come bearing gifts in the form of liquor and beer!” he places the beverages on the counter island in the kitchen and his girlfriend Maya follows in shortly later with a crock-pot, “and Maya brought mini hotdogs for our friends that are not able to drink with us today.”</p><p> </p><p>“How kind of you to think of me.” Clarke snarks dryly, “And Jordan!” she goes to ruffle his hair but he ducks away with wide eyes again as Jasper laughs. Clarke befriended Monty easily enough within her first year of teaching alongside him. He had a deep appreciation for her area of study and had a beautiful vision of the sciences and arts working together for the benefit of the students. He had already been engaged to Harper by that point and she had been one of the only other women that Clarke could really bond with. Harper is a police officer for a neighboring township and is a true inspiration to the feminist within Clarke.</p><p> </p><p>Jasper had grown up with Monty and while the man was absolutely brilliant he was a little hard to follow. He did hands on research with Jefferson Hospital where he met his girlfriend Maya during her residency. Out of everyone in Clarke’s life, Jasper was easily the most welcoming and genuine (he was definitely her favorite, but she could never just say that). Still she welcomed his bony fingers as they gently massaged at her tense shoulders while Maya asked how she was feeling.</p><p> </p><p>“I feel huge! This is the worst part so far.” Clarke groans out as she leans further into Jasper, “I want her out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh come on Clarke, it can’t be that bad!”</p><p> </p><p>Which earns a pretzel thrown at him from Harper and a laugh from Raven when he flails to the ground. He bounces back pretty quick, but instead of reclaiming his spot on the arm of the recliner he instead turns his attention to Jordan. Clarke watches fondly as Jordan leads Jasper towards the basement -which Clarke has to say is definitely a pride point of her house with its custom bar, pool table and entertainment center set up for the ultimate movie experience. The conversation continues on around them until the end of the inspirational and historical special on the television.</p><p> </p><p>“Raven can you light the candle please?”</p><p> </p><p>Raven rolls her eyes, but does as she is asked, just like she did when Clarke handed her the tattered Flyers bandana for Bernie. “Who the fuck burns pumpkin spice candles in June?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s for good luck!” both Clarke and Wells state adamantly at the same time, which only pulls another laugh from the others. From that moment on Clarke is fixated on the pregame show and all of their predictions and hopes for the final game of a tied series to end a milestone season for both teams. Occasionally she’ll text her father who is watching from his house and she replies to her mother to let her know she’s feeling fine. About thirty minutes into the pregame show the front door opens once more.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright bitches the party is here!” another brunette, this one just as strikingly beautiful as Raven, saunters in wearing a similar jersey to Clarke. Her number on the back is 21 and the last name displayed on her back is Woods and she’s got the playoff slogan beanie on her head. “I hope I didn’t miss the lineup announcement.”</p><p> </p><p>“As if you don’t already know the lineup.” Another brunette comes forward and she’s wearing a jersey that says Murphy and has the number 48 on it. Only difference is that she opted to sport their black jerseys instead of the classic orange. “Philly is nuts right now! I can’t believe we’re actually about to witness a Stanley Cup final round game in our city!”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t jinx it!” Raven scolds quickly with a toss of a chip, “I’ve lived my whole life for this moment.”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke laughs; “You judged me for my shrine! And candle!”</p><p> </p><p>“Weak, I’d have judged you on the condition of Bernie’s bandana.” The taller of the two girls leans down and kisses Clarke on the cheek, “How are you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”</p><p> </p><p>The other one rolls her eyes and plops in between Raven and Maya; “Because you’re huge.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s rude Emori!”</p><p> </p><p>“No Octavia, rude would be me saying she looks sickly and like she’s in pain with how pale she is.” Octavia glares at Emori and then does a once over on Clarke and finds that she can’t actually argue with her friends notations.</p><p> </p><p>“You do look a little pale…”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just nervous.” Clarke waves off the concern of Octavia and gestures towards the television. “They’ve shown nothing but bad recaps of the entire season, it makes me nervous.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh ye’ of so little faith! Our boys are ready and the Flyers got this in the bag!”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s that optimism that just proves you’ve not been here long.” Wells grumbles out as he picks at the trail mix on the table. “Philadelphia tradition is to be pessimistic and skeptical whenever your team makes as far as a championship.”</p><p> </p><p>“Except for that time the Eagles won the Superbowl.”</p><p> </p><p>Monty cheers; “Fuck the Patriots!”</p><p> </p><p>“You guys are so morbid,” Octavia says with an eye roll as she collapses to the ground to sit in between Clarke and the coffee table. “Let’s just enjoy the game.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go Flyers!” and the chants begin and Clarke feels impossibly happy. It was going to be a good night, she could just <em>feel</em> it.</p><hr/><p>It was a terrible night! The game has been  nothing but anxiety inducing since the puck dropped a whole period ago. It’s tied 1-1 and the calls have been absolute shit! Clarke chewed the skin away from her thumbnail within the first five minutes and once Octavia noticed she would just swap Clarkes’ flesh out for pretzels. Clarke had been restless from the start of the game and nauseous and she couldn’t shake it, she wondered if it was the excitement of the day or pressure of the game that was making her mouth dry and stomach drop. Her daughter had also been restless almost all day. It was sweet how everyone wanted to feel her move around within Clarke, but mother to be was just sore from it all. She figured since it was intermission she could excuse herself to the bathroom and then sneak some snacks from the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Little Jordan was in the kitchen eying the cookies by time Clarke had drug her feet into the food cluttered room. She asked if he wanted one and he smiled brightly at her and for the hundredth time she wondered how she was supposed to be a functioning mother? How can she try and rationalize with a toddler when she too thought cookies before dinner were perfectly acceptable? Then there had been an especially sharp kick that had Clarke gasping a little and leaning forward against her kitchen island and before she could think anything of it she felt this moment of release before she realized her pants were now soaked.</p><p> </p><p>And Jordan was screaming.</p><p> </p><p>However, all she could focus on was not dropping to the ground completely. For a few moments there’s a lot of commotion and voices, but her vision is still fuzzy and black around the edges so Clarke can’t quite process she’s been moved out of her kitchen and to the living room until she sees Maya come into focus with a penlight flashing at both of her eyes. She knows that she’s being asked important questions, but she just groans in response. Then she hears Maya barking out orders like a drill sergeant and she lets herself lean heavily against Ravens’ shoulder while Wells gets the bag and car ready. She doesn’t really remember the ride to the hospital, but once she’s settled in a gown and in a room with a small television in the corner she’s better able to process what’s happening around her.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s my jersey?”</p><p> </p><p>Octavia launches up from her seat on the sofa, “Right here, lean forward a bit and I’ll slide it behind you. How do you prioritize a jersey and not the situation around you?”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke shrugs, she feels a little cloudy and she must say so because Raven is now on her other side stepping back into the room answering the unintended question. “Well, your water broke just short of  an hour ago, but you were extremely dehydrated. Scared the shit out of poor little Jordan.”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke laughed a little as she drug her free hand down her face. “I remember that, he thought I was being attacked by an alien.”</p><p> </p><p>Octavia laughs out loud; “That has Jasper written all over it.”</p><p> </p><p>“No doubt,” Clarke says fondly as she gets settled further into the mattress below her, “so when will the doctor be back so I can find out how far along I am?”</p><p> </p><p>“He said he’d be right back, you just missed him actually.” Raven supplied as she plopped in the seat next to Clarke’s right side. Octavia preferred to stay standing as the two of them continued to fill Clarke in. “It was terrifying, for a moment they were contemplating rushing you into an emergency c-section, but baby’s vitals seemed good and you started coming back to it, so I guess not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not sure which I’d have preferred,” Clarke moves again to get comfortable, “this sucks.”</p><p> </p><p>The two women hum in agreement and then an awkward silence settles between the three of them until Octavia clears her throat; “Want to know the score?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh God, yes!”</p><p> </p><p>“Five minutes left in the second, 2-2. Colorado currently has the power play, but our boys look good.” Octavia says proudly. “The nurse said you should be able to get the game, but no promises.”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke reaches her fingers for the remote attached to the railing on her bed. “Fuck it,” she grunts out as she searches through the channels. It’s blurry and the sound is hard to adjust because it comes through the speakers of the bed and not on the television but it does the job. Raven calls them psychotic for their dedication to the game, but Clarke shrugs it off. When the first contraction -ok first known contraction, hits a few minutes later Raven grips Clarke’s hand so tightly that <em>Clarke</em> complains about the pain. Her doctor makes it back in the room before the end of the second period (literally seconds left and now he wants to come in and chat as if she doesn’t know who he is after<em> nine months</em>).</p><p> </p><p>“Good news Miss. Griffin,” He says after he’s stepped back from checking her dilation and progress, while he disposes of his gloves and picks up her chart, “you’re about five centimeters dilated as of now. I’d say it’s a very real possibility you’ll have your daughter in your arms before midnight!”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke beams, even though she can feel the tightness of a contraction forming again, “Thank you Dr. Jackson, is there anything else I need to be aware of?”</p><p> </p><p>“The window for an epidural is quickly closing, I’d say if you’d like to change your mind from natural to pain control the sooner the better. Otherwise, everything looks good! I’ll be back to check in on you.” He makes his way to the door and then stops to turn around. “If you’re looking to make any calls to have anyone else here before general visiting hours are over now is the time to do so.”</p><p> </p><p>Octavia perks up at this; “We should call him.”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke blanches, “What? Octavia no! We can’t call him, not yet.”</p><p> </p><p>Octavias’ jaw ticks in annoyance, but Clarke isn’t deterred, instead she focuses on her breathing through the build up of the contraction that she’s about to face. “What do you mean we can’t call him? Clarke he’ll be pissed if he finds out you’re here and that nobody tried to reach him!”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke inhales for four beats and then exhales for four beats before she acknowledges her companion. “He won’t have his phone on him O and this could take hours, I can’t ruin his night.”</p><p> </p><p>Raven pinches the bridge of her nose; “I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that is not how this works. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Octavia.”</p><p> </p><p>“See, if Raven agrees with me then we know I’m not wrong.” Octavia says as she crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes hard as they watch the sweat gather and glisten on Clarke’s face and neck. “He’d want to be <em>here</em> Clarke.” she says softer than before.</p><p> </p><p>Clarke lets out a small mew sound as she breathes through the same contraction, it feels like it’s been going for forever, but it’s been less than a minute. The emotional part of her is agreeing with everything Octavia and Raven are saying, she craves it and desperately wants him there with her, through this whole thing. It’s the stubborn part of her that overrides her wants and instead pushes her mind into fortress mode; they don’t need him there, this is the biggest night of his career (<em>of his life</em>) and she promised herself she was not going to come between him and his dreams. She worked to full term for the school district so that a sub would only be present for the last month of classes, she spent more than half of the doctor appointments on her own, she could do <em>this</em> without him. And then when he was done she’d call him, it wasn’t that bad… it would only take another hour or so and then he’d be able to get to her. <em>It was fine</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The contraction eventually recedes and her grip goes slack around her friends hand. Clarke pretends not to notice how quickly Raven swaps places with Octavia afterwards and is rubbing at her hand and she is vaguely aware of her voice -just as steady as it was moments prior, asking Raven to call her parents. Octavia glared so intensely at Clarke that she almost conceded, but then her friend took her hand and grunted, “The intermission report is on, but this conversation isn’t over.”</p><hr/><p>There is one minute and fifteen seconds left in the third period and Clarke is screaming. This is partially because one of the strongest contractions she’s yet to face is working its way through her body and partially because it is still 2-2 in the game and she’s never been more anxious over a game in her life! Dr. Jackson had confirmed five minutes prior that her dilation was moving along as expected and he wanted Clarke to start preparing herself to push within the next hour or so. All of their friends are anxiously awaiting news in the general lobby waiting away -watching the game of course, and her parents are on their way from their respective homes. Her mother and Marcus (her mother’s new husband) should be there within minutes, but her father will take a while longer. It doesn’t matter, because the only person Clarke really wants there isn’t and it’s all her fault and she hates it!</p><p> </p><p>Raven disappeared several minutes ago with Emori and Octavia hasn’t made eye contact with Clarke since the intermission report in between the second and third periods. Her hand has yet to leave Clarkes’ and she thinks if she wasn’t already crying she probably would start just then. Another contraction builds up and Clarke groans, she curses and she watches as the puck is rebounded off the wall to Murphy who takes it down the center and just before he’s checked he launches the puck to Woods who sets it up. There’s literal seconds left when he passes the puck to Blake and Clarke and Octavia are both screaming as they watch Blake slam the puck just over the opposing goaltenders knee pads and under his arm. The puck hits the back of the net and for a moment Clarke hears nothing, not Octavia cheering and screaming and crying or the television.</p><p> </p><p>“And just like that, for the first time since 1975 the Philadelphia Flyers have <em>won</em> the Stanley Cup!” The commentators begin to recap the game as Clarke watches the three men hoist the cup up and the celebration on the screen suddenly resonates within her very existence. Octavia has her arms around Clarke in seconds and is whispering words of encouragement and keeps brushing her hair back while Clarke just cries. She’s waited her whole life for a moment like this; the chance to say that her team did it, that they are the champions. It was different with the Eagles, because for as much as Clarke loves her city and her teams, football just doesn’t do it for her, but hockey? Hockey has her <em>whole heart</em>, figuratively and literally.</p><p> </p><p>“I know Clarke, I know,” Octavia presses a sloppy kiss to the top of her sweaty head, “he’ll be here shortly ok?”</p><p> </p><p>“No he won’t!” Clarke groans out desperately. “I’m an absolute asshole, he won’t be here and it’s all my fault! Why didn’t you just call him like you said? Why the fuck would you listen to me in this condition?”</p><p> </p><p>“Is this the part where I’m supposed to just agree to soothe you? Is this a trap?”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke doesn’t hear Octavia’s amused response, instead she just keeps cursing (herself, the game, the doctor, the uncomfortable bed, the fact that this is all his fault) and is only cut off when she hears her mother storming into the room. Abby Griffin has walked with confidence her whole life. Nothing has made her skip a step or reconsider herself, and Clarke has always fallen short stumbling over her feet and dropping things in her path. She spent a large part of her young adulthood in an anxious depression over these thoughts and worked so incredibly hard to create her own stride, to own herself higher on a pedestal. It all means nothing as her mom nudges Octavia aside and starts rubbing at the frizzy loose ends of her hair. Octavia puts up little fight and instead takes to playing on her phone while sitting next to Marcus on the stiff plastic sofa.</p><p> </p><p>“What a game, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>Octavia smirks; “You trying to make easy conversation or to keep me from eavesdropping?”</p><p> </p><p>Marcus throws his arms back around the top of the sofa, “Both, your brother played great tonight and he deserves this win. You and I both know that’s not good enough for Abby though and we both know how that pisses you off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Octavia starts with her nose in the air and her eyes to her phone screen, “that sounds like an Abby problem, but you married her.”</p><p> </p><p>“She makes me happy Octavia.” Marcus shrugs and then nudges the young girl next to him. “If it weren’t for you and Bellamy I never would have even met Abby.”</p><p> </p><p>“I had nothing to do with that!” Octavia says while chuckling as she finally turns to look over at the man that’s supported her and her brother since they were kids. She’s about to say something important, something big, because they’re in this room waiting for a new life and it just feels like the moment for Octavia to let her emotions in, but her phone rings and she sees that it’s Lincoln and she knows she has to take it. “Excuse me…”</p><p> </p><p>She walks out of the room while talking with her husband. He’s breathless, but that’s to be expected and he’s so damn happy that Octavia can’t help but feel her eyes flush with tears. He’s talking a mile a minute and she’s so damn proud! She’s only pulled from her head when he’s asking her if she watched, she’s not insulted, and she lets out a little teary laugh. Of course she watched! Didn’t he know how much she loved watching him play? No matter, she’d remind him everyday the rest of their life together. She can hear the background noise and for the first time all day she feels the twinge of resentment that she couldn’t physically be there with them. It only reminds her that she’s at the hospital and she has to say his name three times to get him to listen.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck…” he grunts out and Octavia has to agree, “we’ll be there as soon as possible.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, and Lincoln? Please don’t let him freak out too much.”</p><p> </p><p>He laughs, because he knows Bellamy and there is no way that he isn’t going to freak the fuck out. “I’ll need more luck with that than I did with this game.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ha ha,” his wife snipes back and then she sees Abby walk out of the room briskly, “please just hurry!”</p><hr/><p>Abby spends the next two hours mopping her daughters sweaty brow and holding her hand. She soothes and hushes and helps Clarke breathe through the intensifying contractions as she becomes closer and closer to full dilation. She praises Clarke as another contraction fades and she takes in the starchy orange fabric behind the mess of a braid that remains on Clarkes’ scalp. Subtly Abby tries to readjust Clarke so that she can remove the jersey, but her daughter catches the movement and angrily demands that it’s left as is. It’s just not something Abby seems to comprehend.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care if  you get it or not, I want it to stay!” Clarke shouts and it takes Abby by surprise. Within their entire relationship as mother and daughter Clarke has never raised her voice at Abby. Not that they’ve had a very peaceful relationship, which of course Abby understands is partially her doing, but in the grand scheme of things everything could have been resolved if the stubbornness of Jake hadn’t rubbed off into their daughters demeanor. “Jesus, when will this be over?”</p><p> </p><p>“Soon sweetie, I promise.” Abby soothes, “What do you need right now?”</p><p> </p><p>“The father of my child so I can strangle him.” Clarke growls out as she shifts once more. The contractions have been coming more frequently and intensely for the last thirty minutes. She can tell by the way her body keeps shifting that she’ll be ready to push, but there’s this innate fear that comes with that. She doesn’t want to, not without Bellamy fucking Blake beside her. “I need some space Mom, can you just back up a bit?”</p><p> </p><p>Abby huffs; “To make space for a man that isn’t going to be here for the birth of his daughter?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’ll be here Mom.”</p><p> </p><p>“Will he?”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke whimpers and bites her lip hard enough to leave a bump in the skin, “Yes! Octavia said he was on the way. I’m not asking you to leave the room, I’m just asking you to back up! This isn’t comfortable and you sitting so close to me irritates me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well if I irritate you that much maybe I should leave.” Abby says tersely as she begins to gather her sweater up from the seat and in a flurry of motion she turns to make a dramatic exit. There’s a pang in her chest at the thought of her walking out of her daughters delivery room, but her pride has always been her weakness. Of course as she’s walking towards the door Dr. Jackson is making his way back in with a handful of nurses. “Pardon me.”</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Jackson looks shocked and then looks over at Clarke who is panting and looks… well she looks pissed, but it’s not really his place to comment on such things.  Instead he looks over at the well known Dr. Abigail Griffin asks, “Wouldn’t you rather stay for the delivery?”</p><p> </p><p>She stops and blinks and then looks over at Clarke for confirmation. Her daughter is glaring but nods once and it’s all the assurance that Abby needs before she’s moving back over to Clarke's side. Dr. Jackson is preparing the room and the nurses start to get Clarke into position and Abby is suddenly elated. Upon closer inspection she sees that Clarke looks more distraught than she had throughout the entire ordeal. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at the realization that Clarke isn’t sharing the elation. Then Abby remembers how she felt while waiting for Jake on the day she had her own daughter. She doesn’t move to sit on the side of the bed, she can’t anymore with the rails back up, but she does take her daughters clenched hand and unclenches her fingers softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t I fill in while we wait for Bellamy?”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke nods shakily; “Thanks Mom…”</p><p> </p><p>Abby presses a soft kiss to the pale and sweaty forehead, “Of course Clarke…” she whispers against the damp skin. Dr. Jackson reappears at Clarke’s feet which have been positioned in the stirrups seconds prior and he does his check.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright Clarke, looks like you’re ready!” He takes his seat and passes his instructions to the nurses in the room before he addresses Clarke once more. “On the next contraction I need you to push. Your body will want to on its own, so don’t fight it. You’re doing great so far and it’s almost over, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke nods again and breathes through her teeth. The tension is starting to coil at her lower belly and she starts to mentally prepare. She’s worked out a mantra in her head: <em>you are strong, you are powerful, you can do this, meet your daughter</em>. She lets the words run through her head for the first full contraction pushing and for a second Clarke is convinced that she can actually do it! And then three contractions go by and she’s screaming, but there’s no change. Dr. Jackson has sent a worried glance over to one of the other nurses but his patient tries not to focus on it. She tries not to let her mothers’ pleading get into her head. After the third contraction she’s limp against the bed and gasping. Her mother is speaking and Dr. Jackson is ushering the nurses over and all she can think about is how wrong it all is.</p><p> </p><p>It feels surreal when she hears the door push open and a nurse shout, “Sir! You can’t… these are private rooms! Dr. Jackson, a little help?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well as you can see we’re in the middle of something…” he huffs but he takes one look at his patient's face and the face of the man rushing across the room, he watches as this man literally nudges Dr. Griffin away from her own daughter and takes her place. “...apparently we’ve got it handled.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh God,” Clarke groans out as she feels the familiar rough calloused hand replace her mother's smooth delicate one. “Bell thank God!”</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus Princess,” Bellamy Blake huffs out as he crouches to face Clarke at her level of the bed, “I leave you alone for a few hours and you go into labor.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up! This is all your fault you big dummy!”</p><p> </p><p>He smirks and presses soft kisses all around her face while he lets his fingers tangle with hers and his free hand comes up to rest just at the base of her neck under her braid. “I know baby, I know, but it’ll be over soon, yeah?” Bellamy turns his face just enough to meet the eye of Dr. Jackson who is nodding along.</p><p> </p><p>“We need her to push hard with the next contraction, otherwise we may have to consider other options.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, okay,” Bellamy turns back to Clarke and brushes some stray hairs away from her forehead. “You heard him Princess, you have to push okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to fucking kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s fine, but do it after you’re done pushing okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke just groans out and Bellamy continues to reassure her as he works her upper body. He’s equally as sweaty and gross and sore, but none of it matters. All that matters is her back against his chest, her hands in his and his lips on her skin while he coaches her through the contraction. The sounds coming from her are gut wrenching and he swears he’s never putting her through this again. One perfect replica of the woman in his arms is enough for him if he never has to hear the screams as she literally pushes a child out of her body. “That’s it Clarke! You’re doing so good baby, I’m so proud of you. C’mon Princess only a couple more.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bellamy! I swear if you don’t <em>shut the fuck up</em>…” but her threat falls short because she’s bearing down again and the doctor is telling her that the head is clear and her mother is encouraging her from her feet and Bellamy is doing that stupid thing where he supports her. It all feels like too much and she’s about a second away from losing it entirely when she feels this pressure release from within her. In a flurry of movement over the matter of a minute (but it felt like seconds) Clarke is being handed her very loud and very beautiful daughter.</p><p> </p><p>“Meet our daughter Clarke…” murmurs Bellamy as he places the newborn into his womans’ open arms. He keeps his hand against the baby as she connects with Clarke for the first time chest to chest, he’s so happy he could cry. “I love you…”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke blinks up at him with a wide smile. It’s the stupidest dazed look he’s ever seen on her, but it’s perfect and he’s struck with how perfect she is. How perfect they are and how they’ve now brought the next most perfect human into the world. He’s not even aware that he’s rambling until he feels Clarke’s dry lips against his own. He’s subconsciously maneuvered himself to rest on the bed with her, even with his long leg hanging off the side and the other cramped against the cool metal safety bar. “I love you too.”</p><p> </p><p>Abby Griffin steps aside and without drawing much attention to herself she pulls her phone from her pocket and takes a few photos of the moment in front of her. A few minutes later there’s a ruckus that can be heard from the general waiting area and she knows that her message has been received. She feels like she’s intruding on their moment, but when she made a move to leave Bellamy pulled her back. She had no idea how to respond to his arms around her. Immediately she wanted to remark on his physical state of being. He was sweaty and he was still in his game attire that he wore under his pads and his facial hair needed to be removed as soon as possible! Still, after a few seconds he pulled away and looked embarrassed and Abby could see just a glimpse of the man that had become such an integral part of her daughter's life.</p><p>Abby pulls him back in for another hug and promptly bursts into tears.</p><p>______________________________________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>It’s only natural that the first people to meet Madison Griffin-Blake (insert Bellamy’s eye roll) are Jake Griffin, Marcus Kane, Octavia and her husband Lincoln. Jake and Marcus both pat Bellamy on the back for a solid two minutes and shake his hand. Jake congratulates him on both the win of the Flyers and on the birth of his granddaughter. Octavia is seated on the side of the bed holding Madi like she’s the most precious thing in the world with Clarke and Abby leaning over her on each side. Occasionally one of the women will let an emotional “she looks just like you” or “she’ll have your nose Clarke” and “she’s got the luscious locks of the Blakes’”. Lincoln stands off to the side with a wide smile and waits for his friend to join him in the back corner.</p><p> </p><p>“You did good tonight Blake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah well, I had some help.”</p><p> </p><p>Lincoln snorts and slaps his back, “You’ve got about eight hours before this room is full of your other teammates, are you sure she’s ready for that?”</p><p> </p><p>Bellamy raises an eyebrow and smirks, “I mean she’ll be a few hours old, but I think she can handle it.”</p><p> </p><p>Lincoln smiles over at him, “I meant Clarke you dunce, you just scored the winning goal of the Stanley Cup playoffs for the city of Philadelphia for the first time in nearly fifty years.”</p><p> </p><p>“Eh, minor details…”</p><p> </p><p>The nurses are ushering the extended family members out of the room with the promise of being able to return tomorrow a few minutes later. For the first time the three of them are alone as a family together and it feels magnificent. He’s got Madi cradled in his arms with Clarke resting his head against her shoulder when he notices the scratchy material behind him. “Is that my jersey?”</p><p> </p><p>Clarke flushes; “I wanted you close by…” she clears her throat a little bit next and he chuckles at the nervous energy surrounding her. “It was a great game Bellamy and I’m so, <em>so </em>proud of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh was my game play satisfactory for you today?”</p><p> </p><p>She rolls her eyes, “Don’t be a dick. You played amazing and that winning goal? So hot babe.”</p><p> </p><p>Bellamy flushes at that and she laughs at him wholeheartedly, he nudges her to make her stop but it doesn’t work. Not until Madi lets out the smallest little sound that has both of them stopping just to stare for a few moments. They stay like that for just a little while longer until Clarke can’t keep her eyes open and then when she’s completely asleep against his body he presses his mouth against her forehead. Then he does the same with the infant in his arms. It’s an absolutely perfect ending to the wild and hectic day. While he feels incredibly blessed to have won such an amazing title with his team playing the sport that gave his life purpose it’s not the highlight of the day. Sitting in the bed with the woman he loves pressed up against him and holding the tiny little creation of humans that holds a part of both of them? That’s what he’s going to remember the most about the day.</p><p> </p><p>In the morning when the rest of their friends show up bright and fucking early with coffee and donuts and Clarkes’ favorite Wawa breakfast sandwich Bellamy has this feeling of bliss in his chest. He watches as she laughs at something Jasper says, the way her eyes light up whenever Madi is passed back into her arms. He watches Monty, Harper and Jordan come in with balloons and a stuffed alien, which okay Bellamy doesn’t totally understand, but it makes Clarke smile and pat the bed beside her so that Jordan can hop up and hold his new cousin -because they’re family, not just friends.  Raven and Wells are arguing with Octavia and Lincoln over babysitting rights, Emori and John Murphy are arguing over their future as parents (Murphy wants one, Emori thinks he’s nuts).</p><p> </p><p>The family of three is given a short intermission so that Clarke can practice breastfeeding. The hope is that Madi will latch and they can be discharged shortly after! Bellamy watches fascinated at the way his woman just naturally guides the newborn to her breast. It’s an intimate moment that he wants to tuck away deep into his mind, something he can recall years down the line. Afterwards it’s the team's chance to pop in and it’s probably the most flustered Clarke has ever gotten around him. Bellamy watches in amusement as she gapes as each of the players makes their way in. The relationship between Bellamy and Clarke wasn’t new, but it wasn’t years in the making. There was a general rule when playing for the NHL, your girlfriend doesn’t just meet the team. The love of your life, mother of your child, future wife? <em>Absolutely</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He receives pats on the back and handshakes from the guys that have made an appearance. He gets a brief and manly hug from his friend Nathan Miller, who doesn’t play hockey but has been one of the PR reps for the team since Bellamy was drafted three seasons ago. Miller is the last of the Flyers to stop in and congratulate the happy new family, he’s one of the last of the guys to hold Bellamys’ daughter and he’s one of the last of them to joke around with Clarke about the jersey she still has behind her head. Miller is getting ready to leave as Dr. Jackson makes his final rounds with release papers in hand for the following morning and by the time both men walk out of the room Bellamy can tell just how fast that’s going to develop. That night while they sit around with Clarkes’ parents and Marcus Bellamy gets the call from the association. He’ll have to do some press conferences and interviews, he’s encouraged to participate in the victory parade -bring the family is what the Flyers representative on the phone says, and the team voted and has decided that they want Bellamy Blake to be the first man of the team to house the cup for a day.</p><p> </p><p>If he uses that opportunity to put his daughter in it for her newborn photos (and yes he made sure there was a barrier layer between the cup and the baby, thanks Clarke) well then that is his own prerogative. And if he uses the newborn photo shoot as a chance to propose to Clarke Griffin? That’s just an added bonus. The social media team goes nuts over it all and the day after he brings the cup back to the stadium to pass it on they want to do an official shout out post for his engagement and newborn. Clarke only agrees if Gritty can be involved, she’s still holding on to the idea that if she introduces their kid early enough that Madi will love the orange fur creature.</p><p> </p><p>Madi does not in fact love Gritty.</p>
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